The Wonderland Dead
by ScribblinDaydreamer
Summary: Hetalia as Wonderland characters in a Walking Dead setting! how's that for a cool AU? Main pairings: Prussia/Romano and Spain/England, plus many more.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So... I've been dead for a while. Not literally, though I often wish I was. Anyway, I've decided to start anew. I'm abandoning my fics from last year -yes, I'm a shitty person- and beginning new ones, this time, trying to explore more exciting AUs. Because it's like, they could be intergalactic warriors, a travelling circus, fuckin' dragon trainers, I don't know, and for some reason, I decided to write them into a human AU? Fuckin' hell. Wow. So now, have this. A Wonderland zombie AU. With a shitload of shipping. Fuck yes.

A blue checkered table cloth fluttered in the wind whistling around the top of the building. Broken glass left unattended glittered on the rooftop floor like sinister confetti. Romano crunched across the shards in solid combat boots as he stalked towards the table, heavily laden with sweet treats and tea.

'About time!' England complained from the head of the table. The red ribbons on his magnificent top hat swirled in the wind. 'You're late for tea!'

Prussia giggled maniacally from his side, frantically stabbing at the sugar cubes in his teacup with a switchblade. His long coat sported a new burn mark that hadn't been there before.

France fidgeted on England's other side, nervously checking the time repeatedly, tapping his foot and tugging the sleeves of his crisp suit.

Spain dozed away on the table, head cradled in his arms and axe forgotten by his side.

'It's fucking breakfast time, you crazy bastard,' Romano grumbled, taking a seat at the end of the table, opposite England. 'And why do you never have any coffee? I need caffeine.'

England grinned, twirling a teacup around his pinky finger. 'My apologies, dear! I am awfully sorrowful that I am unable to obtain your precious coffee beans under the current circumstances. Perhaps we may find some later today!'

The albino beside him howled with chilling laughter, driving his blade three inches into the table and leaving it there. 'I'm sure we will. The dead don't drink nothing but blood...' He gave Romano a smirk, his restless crimson eyes darting around, searching for nothing in particular.

Romano shivered through his thin blue shirt and white vest. The rooftop of what used to be a hotel was cold as hell, but it was the only place big enough to fit England's tea table, and it was enough floors up that the beastly howling and screeching of the undead below them couldn't be heard.

'Let's just get on with it,' Romano huffed. 'We're running out of food, our car is low on fuel, and France needs more ammo. The only place in this city with all those things is Russia's crazy fortress down at the Parliament House. Either that, or we'll have to move to another city to find resources.'

'Ooh, the Red King keeps his fortress heavily guarded,' England breathed, excited by the bizarre challenge. 'But that stupid commie has feeble guards, feeble, feeble, feeble. Save for his queen China, and that knave Belarus. Oh, but dear duchess Ukraine should have plenty of food for us, ohoho!'

'Is there nowhere else to get these supplies?' France asked with a frown, checking the cartridges in his two pistols with white-gloved hands. 'What about the Nordics up in their tower on the West end of the city?'

'They have fuel and food, but the only guns they use are fully automatic assault rifles,' Romano shuddered, remembering the last time they accidentally crossed under Finland's watchful eye. 'They wouldn't have the ammo you need.'

France sighed, sweeping a stray lock of golden hair behind his ear and regarding his firearms with a wistful look. 'Perhaps I should give up guns like the rest of you.'

'No way, man,' Prussia objected, grabbing France's sleeve and staring him down with wild eyes. 'You're the deadest shot out of all of us. I've never seen you miss a single headshot. We need you and your crazy skills!'

'It's not enough to get us past our lovely White Queen though,' England remarked cheerfully, pouring himself another cup of tea. 'Norway goes to great lengths to protect his precious little brother. And he's got that brute of a knight Denmark.'

'Alright, alright,' France agreed, jerking his arm out of Prussia's grasp. 'What about Italy's place down at the hospital? They've got Germany, Switzerland and Liechtenstein, they should have tons of firearms and ammo between those three.'

'Bastard, we're not stealing from my brother! Or his brother,' Romano nodded grudgingly at Prussia. 'They're our allies and they need their supplies more than we do. They have a whole bunch of Europeans staying in that hospital.'

'Our darling Mock Turtle has his crew to take care of~,' England sang merrily. 'Veneziano captains a mighty ship of living souls~'

Romano rolled his eyes. 'The idea of my idiot brother 'captaining' anything is terrifying. We all know Germany does all the work, that macho potato bastard of a shitty little-'

A teacup went whirling past his head and of the edge of the roof. Prussia waggled his silver eyebrows at him mischievously.

'Right,' Romano remembered. 'No talking shit about your little brother.'

'Especially in front of me,' Prussia hissed with a threatening smile.

'We're running out of time!' France urged, waving his pocketwatch around erratically. 'Hurry up and eat so we can carry out this raid already!'

'Whatever,' Romano muttered, grabbing a cupcake. 'Let's get our gear and go.'

'Yes! Adventure!' Prussia jittered upright like a wind-up toy and kicked Spain awake.

'Hmmmrrph?!' Spain flailed briefly. 'Adventure?'

'Arise, my mousy little pirate!' England shook his shoulder. 'We're going on a raid!'

'Oh!' Spain jumped into action, easily swinging his heavy axe over his shoulder and following the group down the stairs into the hotel.

Once inside, Prussia flung open a cleaning closet and grabbed his broadsword, dashing down the hallway to another stairwell. 'Meet you at the bottom, last one there has to drive!' He leaped onto the banister and slid down with a whoop of delight.

Within a few minutes, the team had assembled in the lobby; Romano with his elegantly deadly Vorpal sword, England with his supposedly magical staff, Prussia with his broadsword, France with his dual pistols, and of course, Spain with his axe.

England arrived last, which meant he had to drive.

'Bollocks!' he growled, marching out the door, the coattails of his harlequin suit trailing behind him.

'I'm just glad Romano isn't driving,' Spain remarked with a warm smile, earning himself a punch from an offended Italian.

'There's nothing wrong with my driving!' Romano complained, red faced.

France politely tried to muffle his amusement with a gloved hand, but Prussia broke down laughing unrestricted.

'Get in the bloody car!' England yelled from outside.

Spain got shotgun, and the rest of them piled onto the back of the sturdy pick up truck. England hit the gas and within seconds, the soft rotting flesh of a walking corpse was splattered across the windshield.

'UGH,' France spat in disgust, mopping blood off his shoulder with his handkerchief.

'Sorry, love!' England apologized the crew over Prussia's hysterical excitement. The car righted itself and swerved dangerously around the staggering corpses littering the street, and occasionally slamming into one, causing the decaying flesh and blood to burst outwards like a water balloon.

'Gross,' Romano complained, attempting to use Prussia as a shield against the macabre mess.

The albino just laughed, the crazed sound ringing out through the lifeless city as they sped down the roads.

A/N: so, this is meant to be kind of a... Hetalia as Wonderland characters in like, a Walking Dead setting. I might kill a few characters. Any ideas? Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't even fuckin' know.

The car screeched around the corner of a broken building and shot straight into a wall of mysterious fog. England immediately slowed as the mist engulfed them in white blindness.

'Woah-oah-oah,' Spain breathed, leaning out of the passenger side window. 'What's this? ...smells like Netherlands' scarf.'

'Not quite sure,' replied England, slowing the truck to a crawl. 'Put your head back inside, darling, wouldn't want your pretty face to get eaten.'

Spain giggled dreamily and leaned over to kiss England.

Romano knocked his knuckles against the roof of the vehicle noisily. 'Oi, cut it out, you too. I don't want to get eaten by those undead bastards just because you bastards are too busy fucking to drive.'

'Okay, okay,' Spain laughed, pulling himself back into his seat.

Prussia's arms suddenly snaked around Romano's waist, pulling the smaller nation down onto his lap. 'Well, while they're driving, we could get busy,' he whispered in his ear.

Romano struggled out of the albino's grasp, blushing madly. 'No! No way! Not while France is here!'

The blond nation waggled his eyebrows at the pair suggestively.

'Aww, is that the only thing stopping you?' laughed Prussia.

Romano distanced himself from Prussia, holding his sword between them. 'Shut up, bastard.'

'Hey, there's something coming up ahead!' England announced.

The car pulled toward the vague shape in the mist, closer and closer, before it finally became visible. A large pile of rubble, organized into a vaguely cylindrical shape loomed above them, and at the top sat a man, wrapped in so many blankets he looked like a burrito or a caterpillar. The strange man was smoking from a hookah, blowing out billows of white mist like a dragon.

'No way, he created this fog?' France whispered to Prussia.

'I wonder what he's smoking,' Prussia whispered back, grinning wildly.

'Are you Italy?' asked the man, peering down at the truck. His eyes locked with Romano's. 'No... not quite Italy. You are almost Italy.'

'Hey, fuck you!' Romano yelled up at him. 'I'm South Italy! That makes me Italy too, you judgmental asshole!'

The man swung his burrito'd feet towards them and slid down the side of the rubble pile towards them. As he approached, his facial features became apparent and the group gasped.

'Japan?'

'Yes it is I,' the relatively small nation replied, now standing on the ground with a quiet dignity in his burrito costume. 'I know of what you seek.'

'We know of it too, and we're on the way to get it, so could we stop for idle chatter later?' England asked, sticking his head out sideways from the car, his oversized hat miraculously staying in place.

'I must warn you not to go, for it is not wise,' Japan murmured stoically.

'Why, what will happen?' Spain asked worriedly, sticking his head out too.

Japan resumed in a completely flat monotone. 'I don't know. I'm high as a motherfucker. I don't even remember who I am any more.'

There was a short silence, broken by Spain, France and Prussia violently breaking into uncontrollable laughter, rolling about and making the vehicle shake.

'Any of you guys seen the invisible cat guy?' Japan continued, seemingly oblivious to the others' amusement. 'He promised me more manga.'

'No, we haven't, but we will inform you if we come across this cat fellow!' England promised. 'Now, I can't see a damn thing because of this smoke!'

'That is the way you seek,' Japan announced, tilting his head in an eastward direction, before laying down and wiggling his way back up the rubble.

'Thanks bro!' Prussia called from the back. 'Step on it, Iggy!'

'We don't have all day!' France reminded them, snapping his pocket watch open and closed.

England floored the gas and they shot down a wide boulevard, rattling across cracks and potholes until they were clear of the mist.

-page break-

'We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of oz!' England sang merrily over the tortured groans of the undead he swerved around.

'Wrong show, bastard,' Romano muttered from the back of the truck.

BAM. A huge splintering of plaster and wood exploded about them as England plowed through the remains of a building.

'That was the fourth wall you've broken!' France complained. 'Drive more carefully, idiot!'

England reached out the window and waved a gloved hand dismissively. He glanced down lovingly at Spain who had fallen asleep on the dashboard and accidentally drove through another crumbling wall.

'ENGLAND, YOU TEA DRINKING BASTARD!' Romano yelled, ducking down to avoid flying pieces of wood.

'WHAT?!' the British nation yelled back, putting his head out the window to stare back at his passengers. He promptly drove into a wired fence. 'Oh, blimey.'

'That's all you have to say?!' Romano screeched as the surrounding undead began to advance on them.

'Well I was driving in the right direction!' England argued, shaking Spain awake and motioning for him to go. 'There just happened to be a fence in the way!'

'Everyone over the fence!' Romano directed, driving his sword through the eye of the closest walker. It gurgled and convulsed, jerking the Vorpal's blade erratically, until Romano pulled it back with a squelch.

Prussia and France bounded over the fence with gravity-defying ease, Spain scrambled up and over with animal agility, and England effortlessly vaulted over using his staff.

'Oh fuck you guys,' Romano swore breathlessly, climbing on top of the car. Mangled rotting hands rocked the car from side to side and attempted to snatch at his ankles. He quickly slipped the Vorpal sword back into its sheath and pulled himself up onto the fence.

A hand closed around his ankle and Romano let out a very manly screech, using both hands to keep himself from falling as the hand pulled at him. He looked down to see gaunt, grey face, smeared with blood and dirt, one eye a pitch black empty socket and the other a yellow and clouded.

'Get the fuck off of me!' Romano yelled, kicking violently. His heel made solid contact with the walker's chin, flinging its head back with a brittle snap as maggots shook from the empty eye socket and dribbled down from its open mouth. He gagged in disgust and struggled to escape from the gripping hand.

A gunshot rang out through the growls of hungry undead, and a bullet made perfect impact with the walker's wrist, severing it with a burst of hollow bones and rotting flesh, leaving a mangled hand clutched around Romano's ankle. The Italian nation briefly shot France a grateful look from the other side of the fence, and made quick work of climbing over the netted wire.

'That was gross,' he complained, dropping safely to the ground. The hand was still attached to his boot.

'Kesesese, you should wear it as a fashion statement!' Prussia suggested.

'Ugh, like hell,' Romano grimaced, carefully removing it with his sword before flinging it away.

'We're close now,' England stated, twirling his staff around his hand like a baton in a marching band.

'Does that mean we'll have to go the rest of the way on foot?' Spain whined, leaning against him.

'Don't complain, love, you just took a nap in the car,' England replied, pushing the Spaniard upright. 'If we cut through the park, we'll be right outside the Parliament house.'

'It's not exactly a small park, what if we get lost?' Romano asked, tapping his foot nervously.

'Nonsense, we'll surely know the way!' England assured him, linking an arm through Spain's and marching away.

Half an hour later, this statement proved to be untrue. The surrounding vegetation was untrimmed and overgrown. The grass and weeds were dense and tall, and the group waded through the sea of green, Prussia taking point and swinging his sword to and fro in the long grass, checking for walkers.

'Mon dieu, how can we be back here again?' France ran a hand irritably through his somehow perfect hair.

'What do you mean back here, we haven't been here!' England shot back, still arm in arm with Spain.

'Yes we have,' Romano countered, pointing. 'We passed that fountain five fucking minutes ago! Just admit that we're lost, you bastard.'

'I'm not lost!'

'Inglaterra...' Spain murmured gently.

'Okay, I'm lost,' England admitted with a pout.

'You seem like you could use some help,' a sleepy voice drifted down from above.

All five of them started, raising their weapons towards the sound.

A tall form slid down from the branches of a tree. 'Relax, I'm unarmed.'

The group stared tensely at the man, suddenly noticing the twitching cat ears and waving tail the intruder had.

'What the fuck?' Romano growled, taking a step back behind Prussia.

'Oh it's you!' Spain grinned trustingly. 'Hi Greece!'

The sleepy nation grunted in reply, stretching with a yawn.

'Greece...?'

-TO BE CONTINUED-

A/N: someone please tell me what the fuck i'm doing, i'm so lost, england is me, ahahaha...


End file.
